


delivering myself to you

by sapphiclemon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Autistic Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Mailman Crowley, implied neurodivergency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphiclemon/pseuds/sapphiclemon
Summary: “My name is Crowley!” Crowley shouted out.He didn’t say anything more, waiting for the man to react. But the man kept silent, standing all posh. He was clearly waiting for an emphasis.“Er, I’ve got your mail,” Crowley said. “I didn’t steal it, I swear. I wouldn’t steal mail, it’s too nice to be stolen. I’m the mailman, the delivery man. Sorry, those mean the same thing.” he blurted. When more silence followed, Crowley said the one thing that has been on his mind since first seeing the man.“You’re very pretty.”-Crowley is a mailman with a system. Aziraphale is a bookshop owner with a system. They become friends through bumbling and kindness. But maybe that friendship slowly turned into something more.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 116





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first multichap and I'm very excited for it! Enjoy! P.S. The tags and characters are subjected to change as the story goes on!

Crowley loved his job. It was a bit of a funny thing because his job wasn’t conventionally fun or sought after, but nevertheless, he loved what he did. And that was to deliver packages. 

He liked imagining what was in the parcels he delivered. Crowley would shake particularly interesting boxes that caught his eye if he had time. However, as he couldn’t open the boxes he shook, he often was left with a nagging feeling in the back of his head. A feeling that told him that he was forgetting Something Important.

And as he hated that feeling, he began refraining from shaking packages. He didn’t enjoy it. In fact, he felt the opposite. It made him dislike his job as one of the most enjoyable things about it was taken from him (yes it was on his own terms, but Crowley loved to be dramatic). Even with such a setback, he could never hate the job. No, he loved what he did far too much for that. Eventually, Crowley came up with a system. He told himself, that for every 25 packages he refrained from shaking, he could shake 1.

And it was a system that worked very well for him. No one came after him, and no concerned coworkers came to ask him what he was doing when he was caught. Crowley was happy to have this to himself. Besides, he wouldn’t know how to explain his system to someone anyway. 

He tried to tell his best friend (really only friend) Anathema about it but she looked at him a bit funny and poured him a gross cup of tea. It was raspberry, and Crowley hates raspberry tea. He didn’t drink it. Not even a sip to pretend to be polite. She asked him a few questions about The System, most of which went unanswered because Crowley kept telling her that “I already told you everything about it! It’s a simple system because I need it to be simple. If there’s a need for it to be not simple, I’ll tell you!” After the interrogation, she pressed a wonky-shaped crystal in his hand saying it’ll help with foot aches of headaches or something (Crowley wasn’t really paying attention) and shooed him out of her flat. Crowley threw out the crystal on his way to his car.

A few weeks after that, there was a reason that The System was not simple anymore. (Crowley didn’t keep his promise to tell Anathema).

-

Aziraphale Fell was a generally kind man. However, much of his kindness was strained. Most of his customers could tell that he didn’t like to be kind. And they were right, he didn’t like it at all. But he still was kind because it was an obligation that he couldn’t escape.

What Mr. Fell would do was stand near the cash register of his bookshop all day, with his hands folded over his stomach, smiling at his customers. And he would smile too much. When they tried to purchase one of his books, he would smile some more and tell them that “This specific book isn’t for sale at the moment, but if you’d like, I could call someone to see if I could get it for you?” And then the customer would agree and order the book with Mr. Fell’s help, but then they would never receive the book.

Mr. Fell did not use the internet, as a rule. He had an IBM personal computer at the back of his bookshop that he was able to navigate extremely efficiently, thank you very much. Generally, he knew what the internet was and he was able to navigate it for important things that he needed to do. Namely, his taxes.

Mr. Fell didn’t see the point of having a computer for any reason besides that. 

“What would I even do with a computer? I have my books, I don’t need a mechanical monstrosity in my bookshop that doubles as another fire hazard.” he reasoned with himself.

Because of this, much of his mail is delivered as paper. Paper mail and the postal service was the right way to get messages and announcements delivered. Yes, it took actual months for anything important to get to him, but that wasn’t a problem for Aziraphale Fell. No, it wasn’t.

It worked for Mr. Aziraphale Z Fell. No one bothered him, and if there was someone that needed something from him, it was nearly always too late by the time he got a letter. Besides, they could always call if they needed to.

These systems worked well for both Mr. Aziraphale Z Fell and Anthony J Crowley (no Mr. please). They knew what was expected of them and they knew how to operate. It was always a set routine, and they both liked that, being avid whatever is the opposite of supporters of spontaneity.

But then when Crowley’s system changed, the world basically ended.

-

It was a Wednesday. Crowley loved Wednesdays. It was right in the middle of the week, with three days on each side spreading out from it. Crowley liked that. He liked when things made sense like that.

Crowley got the chance to stay at work a bit later as he was asked to cover someone else’s shift (he didn’t know who but it was probably one of the morons that looked at him weird when he shook his boxes). Crowley was driving to deliver to a whole different part of London, Soho. 

Crowley primarily delivers to Mayfair (his own neighborhood of residence), but he’s never delivered to Soho. And he was excited to do it for the first time.

As Crowley doesn’t like to stay inside, he has been nearly everywhere he can reach on foot or by public transport within the range of his apartment. He likes walking around and looking at the city. He’d been to a few American cities, specifically New York. The buildings were huge. But in London, they weren’t too distracting. 

And if he did get bothered by the noise, or the multicolored lights, or just the sheer amount of people that exist near him; breathing, and talking, and brushing past him, he simply retires to his flat, turns off the lights, and eats dried apricots. He likes dried apricots and he likes them more when he’s binging a few seasons of Doctor Who alongside them (the Tenth Doctor is his favorite, but he isn’t one to complain about any of the other Doctors).

Because of his ventures outside into the world, he knows how things work. Crowley has learned how to start up conversations with anyone that he needs to. He pays attention to how people stand, and walk, and respond to him and others. He’s noticed it helps.

However, Crowley was currently very confused. He is looking through the window of a bookshop. It looks rather old and a bit run down, but Crowley likes it. It looks very warm. But Crowley was confused at a contradiction in the bookshop. While the bookshop looked warm and inviting, the man that looked like the bookshop’s owner currently looked like he was restraining himself from attacking a woman that was holding one of his books and yelling at him. He was a very beautiful man.

Crowley couldn’t help but admire him honestly. He was wearing neutral tones and seemed to be around Crowley’s age. He had nice fluffy blond hair that Crowley wanted to touch the second he noticed it. He was round and Crowley wanted to bite him. The man was fucking gorgeous.

Crowley watched in fascination as the beige-colored man stopped twisting and turning his hands in front of him and brought his hands up to align his bowtie. His hands continue to move behind him, where he interlocked his fingers behind his back. He started to straighten up to his full height, and he evidently cleared his throat. Crowley snapped out of his enchantment and ran around the side of the bookshop to get to the front, not wanting to miss the pretty man giving his customer a piece of his mind.

Flinging around the corner, Crowley burst through the red-stained oak door, interrupting the warm-colored man in the process. The man looked up at the racket that was made and scrunched his face in distaste at Crowley. He then turned back to the woman standing in front of him and said in an assertive tone, “I do not think there is any point in discussing it further.” He then took (more like ripped) the book out of the woman’s hands and gestured his hand toward the door. She huffed and stamped out the front.

The fluffy-haired man straightened himself out and clasped the book in his hands in front of his stomach. Crowley didn’t think he would ever see anything more attractive. 

“Dear boy, how could I help you?” his melodic voice rang through to Crowley. Crowley was swooning.

Just then, he realized that he’d been standing, wildly staring at the cozy man for the entire time he was in his shop. He didn’t even know the man’s name! 

“My name is Crowley!” Crowley shouted out.

He didn’t say anything more, waiting for the man to react. But the man kept silent, standing all posh. He was clearly waiting for an emphasis.

“Er, I’ve got your mail,” Crowley said. “I didn’t steal it, I swear. I wouldn’t steal mail, it’s too nice to be stolen. I’m the mailman, the delivery man. Sorry, those mean the same thing.” he blurted. When more silence followed, Crowley said the one thing that has been on his mind since first seeing the man.

“You’re very pretty.”

At this, the man reacted. With a small quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, dear boy, I can’t say I’ve gotten too many compliments along those lines. But, I appreciate it very much. I’ll cherish it forever.”

Crowley wanted to kiss him. Oh, how Crowley wanted to kiss him. He would ask of course. He would always ask. Not asking was wrong. Crowley would want someone to ask him, so he will ask someone else.

“My name is Aziraphale,” Aziraphale continued. “And this is my shop. And to my understanding, you’ve come into my shop to deliver the post?”

“Yes! Yes, I did. You are my last stop for the day, actually. You have a small package and 3 letters!” Crowley said.

The two of them stared at each other for 13 seconds (they both counted). In those 13 seconds, Crowley almost fell in love. Almost. He almost was in love, but not yet.

“Well dear boy, could I have them please?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley snapped out of his stupor and started shuffling around his person to find the strap of his bag. When he found it, he tugged on it to bring the bag closer to himself, to his front. He reached in and took out the envelopes and a book-shaped package.

He extended his arms to hand the mail addressed to Aziraphale, its rightful recipient. Aziraphale stepped forward and grabbed them from the end closer to him. He barely brushed just the tips of Crowley’s fingertips, but Crowley felt it and he immediately knew the world would end with him and Aziraphale.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

And Crowley nodded.

“I’m glad to have been of assistance, my dear boy. Now, I’m afraid that I am closing up now. So unless there is anything specific that you need from me, I sadly must shoo you out.”

Crowley wanted to scream. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. While Crowley was particularly known for being dramatic, this was definitely not A dramatic at work.

“I er- I actually wanted to ask you,” Crowley paused to think of how to phrase his proposition without it being too strange, “could I see what’s inside your parcel?”

Aziraphale’s blank expression changed to an inquisitive one. “Why?”

“It’s just, I like to shake packages. It’s a bit strange, I know, but I like to imagine what’s inside. The only problem is, I obsess over the mystery. I can’t stop thinking about the packages I shake weeks after shaking them. I keep on thinking of what could possibly be inside. So, since I already shook your package, I’m asking you if we could open your parcel together? If you’d like to, of course. I wouldn’t want to intrude if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Aziraphale stood in his shop. A bumbling mail delivery man just asked if they could open the package that he just delivered together.

So how could he possibly say no?

He turned and started walking further into the shop. 

“Darling, follow me,” he called to Crowley.

Crowley almost fell over when he heard that name coming from Aziraphale. The most beautiful man he’d ever seen. He rushed after him, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness.

Aziraphale led him to the backroom of the shop. His haven. Aziraphale was quite nervous in letting a man he’d just met into the Eden he’s spent years creating, but he felt it was alright. Aziraphale was sure that Crowley would not hurt anyone on purpose. And he has always been a good judge of character.

The backroom was cluttered. Well, not anymore cluttered than the rest of the shop but cluttered nonetheless. Crowley usually didn’t like clutter but he felt safe. Hundreds of books and warm colors surrounding him. 

As he stood in the doorway, Aziraphale walked over to his desk and picked up a letter opener sitting on a worn book that looked to be about 400 years old. He then sliced the taping on the side of his package, before doing the same to the top. Aziraphale reached in and pulled out a red book. It was entirely unextraordinary looking, but the man smiled anyway.

“Ah, I’ve been waiting for this,” he said.

“What is it?” Crowley asked, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse at the title.

“It is a collection of Mother Shipton’s prophecies. I believe these were the ones that were officially published in 1610, though I’ll have to date them myself to confirm, dear boy.” he looked up at Crowley and smiled. Aziraphale then held out the book and asked, “Would you like to have a look?”

Crowley wanted to kiss him. The man was most definitely the most beautiful person he would have the pleasure of knowing. But instead of telling him that, Crowley gulped and reached forward. He gently took the book out of Aziraphale’s hands. He opened the book halfway to a random page. 

Crowley looked at the sprawl in front of him. It was almost entirely undecipherable. He could make out a few basic letters like a and h, but besides that, most of the words were smeared, or faded, or damaged in some other way.

Crowley was a bit disappointed in the least. Though not of the contents of the package, but rather the fact that the contents were spoiled.

He turned back to face Aziraphale. The man was still smiling, only now it was soft and genuine. They looked at each other and Crowley felt his mouth nudge up into a smile as well. He looked back down at the book before handing it back to Aziraphale. When he took the book out of Crowley’s hand, Crowley looked up at the man. The light in the dimly lit bookshop was at just the right angle that it made Aziraphale’s white-blond hair reflect, making him have a halo. Making him look like an 

“Angel.” 

“I’m sorry what was that?” the angel asks. And Crowley fell completely and totally in love.

“Oh, er, nothing. Nothing at all.” Crowley fumbles. “It’s just that, you are very beautiful and you looked like an angel just then, and I thought that the name would be fitting. Sorry.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley for a second or two, seemingly studying him. Crowley shifts his weight, foot to foot. He is very embarrassed but he doesn’t want to leave and be rude.

“My dearest boy, you have nothing to apologize for. Thank you very much, you are so sweet and kind.”

Crowley blushes. He hasn’t blushed in a long time. And the last time he did was because he was scared, not because he was being lathered in honeyed words.

Aziraphale smiles at him. It was a beautiful way to be smiled at.

“Well my dear, I have to close up shop now. But I do enjoy your company ever so much. Pop by anytime you’d like, really! I’d be glad to make us a spot of tea and we could have a chat about anything we could find to have a chat about.”

Crowley knew he was being shooed out. But it was alright! Aziraphale had his boundaries and he was very clearly setting them now. 

He smiled at the angel and fantasized about kissing him one more time. And then he left, the door slamming decisively after him.


	2. so we meet once again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the darlings meet once again and are very much smitten with one another.

When Crowley woke up the next day he was excited, for lack of a better word.

He spoke to the most angelic man in existence the day before, and they opened a package together.

Crowley was absolutely thrilled, he was. Over the moon, one could say.

But Crowley was determined to meet with the man once again. He hoped that he would be welcomed by Aziraphale, but he told himself that he must not get his hopes up. After all, he did shoo him out of his bookshop. But his other, more optimistic side argued that ‘The angel told you to drop by. He said he’ll make you tea!’. And Crowley was desperately agreeing with the second side.

Aziraphale was so kind to Crowley. And he was pretty. Oh so pretty.

But Crowley mainly wanted to go back to his shop because of how he was treated by Aziraphale. He was treated with understanding and patience. Aziraphale didn’t interrupt him or try and talk over him, and that was something that not many people were able to give him. Not even Anathema, who looked at him funny sometimes.

Going about his set morning routine (waking up, getting dressed in the bathroom, eating breakfast, and finally brushing his teeth and washing his face), Crowley thought about Aziraphale. Or more specifically, how he could go see him.

Crowley had two options.

Either he would go by Aziraphale’s shop during work so they could open another package together after somehow convincing his coworker to switch rounds with him (he was working through a plan, it wasn’t gonna be perfect yet), or he would just pop by after he’s finished with his shift.

Crowley ultimately knew what he would most likely decide to do. He did have quite alot of free time and he didn’t want to make things much harder for himself. Besides, he didn’t want to show up on Aziraphale’s doorstep in his work uniform. He did have some sense of propriety.

-

Aziraphale was still thinking about the bumbling postman. He didn’t expect to be stuck on someone that he barely even spoke to, but he couldn’t really help it. He was a very...interesting individual. Not interesting in a bad way, or even a good way. He was just interesting!

Aziraphale did completely agree with Crowley about his system of delivering packages. If he were in the same position he would undoubtedly be doing the exact same thing.

And he was handsome. He was very handsome. And twinkly. Crowley was very tall and slender, but on top of that, he seemingly had a tender and sweet personality. In short, he was beautiful. Sin incarnate. Even when he was wearing that stupid, bright red jacket.

Despite all this, Aziraphale didn’t expect to see Crowley again. He seemed like he was busy. Or like he was the sort to have lots of friends and know lots of people. Aziraphale still held out hope though.

He invited the twinkling man for tea. That’s how people offered to spend time with their new acquaintances without it ever being expected to be carried out. Right?

-

For the first time in Crowley’s life, he didn’t want to go to work. He wasn’t fully dreading it, but he did have reluctance in going, which was very strange to him.

Crowley was constantly fantasizing about Aziraphale. Crowley knew that most people would assume that his daydreams of Aziraphale were pornographic or lewd if he told them that he was daydreaming about an attractive man that he’d just met, but that could be further from the truth. While Crowley did think that he wanted that with the angel, it wasn’t something that Crowley consistently fantasized about. Crowley mostly thought of kissing Aziraphale.

Crowley couldn’t help but notice the angel’s mouth. It was a very very nice mouth. It was a bit thicker than Crowley’s own mouth, and it had a slight cupid’s bow at the top. Aziraphale was obviously very well-groomed, and he evidently took care of himself. And that included his mouth. His soft-looking, kissable mouth.

All Crowley wanted to do was skip work and go to Aziraphale’s bookshop to be near the angel. He wouldn’t even ask for much, just if he could sit and watch Aziraphale walk around and work. Or if he could close his eyes and listen to Aziraphale talk continuously about the most interesting things Crowley has ever heard. The subjects of discussion weren’t actually that intresting, but Crowley found them worthwhile because Aziraphale was telling him about them.

Crowley wanted to easily intertwine his life with Aziraphale in any way he could. And he sincerely hoped it would be welcome.

As Crowley entered the warehouse and made his way to the truck he was scheduled to drive, he went over his plan to meet with Aziraphale again.

He would go about his day as normal (or as normal as he could with his thoughts being filled by Aziraphale), then he would dash home after his shift to change out of his uniform into something more flattering before going to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

He hoped that he would be invited into the shop to have a conversation with the angel, at least. But if Aziraphale didn’t want to speak to him after their brief package opening exchange, then Crowley would oblige. Not happily, but he would respect Aziraphale’s wishes. 

He just hoped he wouldn’t come off as weird to the angel. He didn’t think he could stand that.

-

Aziraphale was testier with customers than usual today. 

While he was generally rude to customers, as yet another rule, He didn’t feel like having the patience to go through strained smiles and passive-aggressive threats today. He just wanted to be left alone.

He needed to take some time for himself to get rid of a near-constant string of thoughts surrounding Crowley. He was probably half-way in love with the man already, which was strange because he never took to anyone so fast. No matter how tempting they were.

And Crowley was incredibly, deliciously tempting.

But like any respectable shop owner, Aziraphale committed to muscle through. He did make a deal with himself to close up if he became too uncomfortable. No extremely good-looking man will get in the way of him and his health.

But for now, he would be content with hiding behind bookshelves or in his backroom to ignore customers and all their pesky questions. He could pretend to reshelve or, an even better idea, he could make a cup of cocoa and read something. Perhaps Emma. He was in due time to reread that.

-

It was the longest day at work in Crowley’s life. He didn’t think he would ever be so unenthusiastic about delivering packages, but fortunately, his shift didn’t drag on for too long. Besides, he had thoughts of Aziraphale to accompany him. 

He was anxious to get home and put his plan into action.

-

Aziraphale’s day dragged on for what seemed like ages. Not too many people came in, luckily, but he had an obnoxiously loud woman come in to ask if he would restore one of her father’s books that was extremely worn and torn. And Aziraphale probably would’ve accepted the proposal if she didn’t start insulting his shop. 

The woman had seemed to have no filter! She prattled on and on about how the bookshop was dusty, and smelly, and too dark.

It took most of Aziraphale’s willpower to not tackle the woman. Though that isn’t out of the ordinary for him. He did however want to tackle her with more enthusiasm than he did his other customers.

After that ordeal, Aziraphale was very ready to shut down and have some alone time (where he would most likely think a lot about Crowley).

As he was shuffling papers in the backroom getting ready to close, he heard clear knocks coming from the door. This struck him as odd as no one ever knocked when he was evidently open. Most people just walked in, tracking mud, leaves, and other waste that Aziraphale had to clean up later. So the fact that someone was knocking was an anomaly. And because he was human and had an infinite supply of curiosity, he rushed to open the door.

He placed his hand on the cool doorknob and he slowly turned it. Cracking open the door he saw none other than the bumbling postman, Crowley himself.

-

Crowley was very nervous to see Aziraphale again, to say the least. He had dressed his best (which was his usual. The only difference was that he wore his fancier cologne), and he knew he looked good, but he wasn’t sure how dropping by would be received by Aziraphale. If the angel even remembered him, of course. Though Crowley wasn’t sure if his heart could handle it if Aziraphale didn’t remember him.

The angel and the postman stared at each other for a bit, both appreciating how wonderful the other looked (in their heads of course. They didn’t have any intention of embarrassing themselves right at that moment, thank you very much). 

“Hello,” Crowley’s voice squeaked out.

Aziraphale brought his eyes back up to Crowley’s from where they were running across the rest of him.

“Hello yourself darling,” Aziraphale responded politely, as he usually would. 

“You remember me?” Crowley asked, genuinely surprised

“Of course I do! You’re the bumbling postman, I’m glad you came back” Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley smiled at him before a silence fell over them.

After some more silence and staring, Crowley cleared his throat and asked, “Could I come in? If-if you’d like me to, of course! I don’t want to burden you with forcing you to host me or something. I just thought I would come by for tea! You invited me for tea remember!”

Crowley had to shut his mouth before he embarrassed himself even more. He didn’t like how he lost all composure just from speaking to a pretty angel. He already had the nickname of ‘bumbling postman’. He didn’t bumble. He was cool! And he should always be cool! No matter what a pretty angel says!

“Of course I remember darling. Yes, yes, of course, come in! Tea! Let me get some, my dear.” Aziraphale opened the door wider before scurrying off to presumably make tea for them. Crowley tentatively stepped into the shop and closed the door. But he didn’t move. And he felt like a moron for not moving. He suddenly felt very itchy and like his skin was tightening on his body.

And then Aziraphale came back. “Alright my dear boy, I put the kettle on the stove so I should have some tea out in a jiffy.”

Crowley gulped and nodded, still tense and standing ramrod straight.

“Crowley,” he heard his angel’s voice say, “Crowley, dove, are you alright?”

Crowley nodded and gulped, “I’m-I’m alright. But could you hold my hand? Please?”

Aziraphale smiled and stepped forward, “Of course I can, darling.” he whispered before slowly reaching out and so so softly taking Crowley’s hand and placing it in his, intertwining their fingers.

And they stood there. An angel and his postman in the front of his bookshop. They stood for around 2 minutes and 17 seconds (Crowley was counting), just to let Crowley relax. Once his shoulders started to untense, Aziraphale raised himself onto his tiptoes to speak into Crowley’s ear and ask, “Are you alright? Would you like that tea now? The water is for sure done boiling.” And Crowley nodded, unable to say anything from both his nervousness and Aziraphale’s breath puffing onto his neck.

Aziraphale lightly tugged Crowley to his backroom to sit him down on his sofa. Crowley followed and plopped down onto the cushy pillows. Aziraphale picked up the blanket that was folded over the back of the couch. He shook it out before cautiously placing it over Crowley’s lap.

Crowley gave a contended hum before Aziraphale rushed to the kitchen to finish making their tea and bringing it out.

“I’m sorry about that angel, I don’t know what came over me,” Crowley said when Aziraphale came back into the room, holding two steaming cups.

“Nonsense dove, it’s perfectly alright. As long as you’re safe, then I am perfectly happy. I will gladly help you in any way that I can.” Aziraphale answered genuinely, sitting down and passing Crowley’s cup to him. He took a small sip and scrunching his face in discomfort as he realized that the drink was still too hot.

Crowley smiled at him. Fuck how he loved his angel.

“So dearest, what brings you back here? I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect you to come! I hoped of course, but I didn’t think you’d visit.” Aziraphale said, a tiny bit bashful.

“It was a combination of a whole bunch of things,” Crowley replied after taking his own sip, and instantly regretting it, “But mostly it’s because I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Not in a weird way, just thinking about the other day. No one has ever opened a package for me, you know? And the fact that you did that sort-of interested me in wanting to find out what kind of person talks to an awkward mailman about packages. Also, you’re just very pretty and I happen to be a homosexual.”

Aziraphale flushed at his last comment. “You flatter, darling. And I’ll gladly open all my packages with you if it’ll make you happy, no matter how much you’re bumbling.” he smiled before he paused, then quickly added on, “I’m also an openly homosexual person, and I think you’re very pretty as well.”

Crowley smiled at him so sweetly. He liked that Aziraphale spoke the way he did. He had a very nice voice. One that was almost melodic with different tones and lilts that simply hypnotized Crowley. He could listen to his angel talk for hours.

After both of them taking sips, Crowley adjusted his body to face Aziraphale. “So angel, what have you been doing all day? Reading? Yelling at more customers? The possibilities for what you could do are endless, so it would make sense that something riveting would happen today.”

Aziraphale inwardly cringed. He had in fact been doing both of those earlier in the day, and he felt a bit self-conscious that he was so predictable. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared. But this was Crowley! The most beautiful man he’d ever seen!

“Yes, actually. I’ve done both of those today, though I feel as though I am justified in yelling at a customer.”

“Oh angel, do tell!” Crowley said enthusiastically.

“Well, she came in and demanded that I restore some of her late father’s old tomes. And I almost accepted the offer, even though her tone was very rude. But then she started insulting the shop. She started talking about how it was old, and musty, and other unspeakable things! I couldn’t believe my ears! Some people just don’t have any humility. I seriously considered doing her some physical harm before I threw her out of my shop. But in the end, I couldn’t be bothered. There will always be people in the world that will choose to be terrible, and she was just one of them.” Aziraphale finished his story with a huff.

Crowley was gazing dreamily at his angel. He was the most interesting man he’d ever met. And Crowley was so incredibly besotted with him.

“I’m sorry dearest. I didn’t mean to go off into a tangent or speak over you.” Aziraphale interrupted Crowley’s thoughts bashfully.

“Angel! There is nothing to be sorry about. Absolutely nothing. I find your voice to be so incredibly angelic, and I love listening to it. If could ask, could you tell me another one of your harrowing adventures in dealing with customers? I would love to hear it.” 

So Aziraphale told him another story. And another. And he kept talking and Crowley kept listening until he was falling asleep. Crowley was warm, comfortable, and in heaven.

Aziraphale noted that Crowley’s eyelids were drooping and decided to head off to bed. He put his wineglass down before dashing upstairs to fetch Crowley a pillow. He put it under his head and tucked him in on his sofa.

He gave him a soft kiss to his forehead and wished him pleasant dreams of whatever he liked best, secretly wishing Crowley dreamed of him. Aziraphale then made his trek up the bookshop stairs and into his flat, falling asleep to dreams of his postman who was dreaming of his angel below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry for a bit of a wait, but I finally got the motivation to finish this chapter! chapter 3 is in the works, so it shouldn't be *too* long, but please don't take my word as gospel! I am smitten with them. Almost to the extent that they are with one another.


	3. their ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wake up and talk a bit. Then they move in and live out their days!

Aziraphale woke with the sun, as he usually did. He liked getting an early start on the day, not wanting to waste any time on such frivolous things as sleeping.

Every morning he wakes at 6:30, and every morning he makes himself breakfast first thing.

Aziraphale has had the same routine after waking up for years now, and not ever in any of his years, did he get downstairs to find a pretty redheaded man, or really any man, sleeping on his sofa. So when he did find a pretty man sleeping in his backroom, he nearly flinched out of his skin, spilling his tea on himself in the process.

Crowley was snoozing away, and he looked so incredibly comfortable. Aziraphale didn’t want to wake him up in any respect. The pretty man seemed to be exhausted, and he obviously slept like the dead! He hadn’t even moved from the position that Aziraphale placed him in the evening before.

Aziraphale smiled at the sight before moving on with his day. He sat down and continued his breakfast (a healthy serving of scrambled eggs), and he thought about what he was meant to finish that day.

Aziraphale had always found it easiest for him if he could make a checklist of all of his goals for the day. He had an eidetic memory, so anything he would see would be permanently sealed into his head for as long as he needed it. Aziraphale had learned that his lists didn’t have to be neat and concise and that his memory would work even if he scribbled everything he wanted to do on a scrapped piece of paper.

So Aziraphale had started to incorporate that scribbling into his daily routine. He would eat, wash his dishes, and then return to his desk to drink his tea and plan out his schedule.

However, just as he was finishing up, he heard a soft thud coming from behind him. And then the slow approach of footsteps.

Aziraphale turned in his seat, already beaming.

“Good morning, dearest. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” He looked up at Crowley who was stretching, reminiscent of a cat.

Crowley sleepily blinked his eyes, before leaning down to loom and smile happily at Aziraphale, his long hair falling in the way of his face. “It was marvelous angel, your sofa back here is very comfortable.”

Aziraphale reached up and pushed Crowley’s hair out of his face, beaming genuinely some more. “Ah, there you are my dearest.”

Crowley leaned into his angel’s touch, still reminiscent of a cat.  _ Goodness _ , he thought to himself,  _ I love him dearly _ .

“What would you say to some breakfast? Is there anything in particular that you’d like? I’d be more than happy to fetch something for you.”

Aziraphale was looking at Crowley, thinking of just how wonderful he was. And Crowley was looking back at Aziraphale, wondering just how he got so lucky to be able to have breakfast with an actual Angel on Earth.

“Did you eat, angel?” Crowley asked.

“In fact, I did dearest. I had a healthy serving of scrambled eggs. They are a favorite dish of mine, but if it isn’t to your taste, I’ll gladly accommodate you, dearest.”

“Eggs sound wonderful, angel.” Crowley smiled, “Say, where is your bathroom so I could wash my face?”

“Of course, dear. It’s up the stairs, into my flat, and it’s the first door on the right.” Aziraphale said.

“Thank you, angel,” replied Crowley.

They split and went their separate ways, just for a few minutes. Crowley up the stairs, and Aziraphale to the kitchen to happily whip up some eggs for Crowley. Both were so happy they were with the other. Both were so very, incredibly  _ happy _ .

When Crowley came back down, his eggs have gone the tiniest bit cold. But that wasn’t a cause to complain for Crowley. No, of course it wasn’t. Aziraphale had made him breakfast and he was damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy every second of it. Aziraphale happily sipped his tea, watching Crowley scarf down his food.

“Dearest, when is the next time you have to go?” Aziraphale asked, just a tad bit shyly.

“If you are asking when I have to go to work, it’s 10 this morning. Though my shift ends early today, at 2.” Crowley paused “Could I come back after my shift? I obviously won’t if you wouldn’t like me to, but I would really like to see you again. I think you’re so cool and-”

“Of course you can dearest,” Aziraphale reassured him, “You are simply stunning and lovely and I would love to see you around more.”

“Besides,” he continued, despite Crowley’s light blush, “No one has ever called me ‘cool’ before.”

“Ngk,” Crowley fumbled, “Sorry angel.”

“Oh dearest, no! Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s, which was resting next to his empty plate, “I wasn’t making fun of you; I wouldn’t dare! I was simply stating that no one had ever called me cool before.”

Crowley smiled again “Thanks, angel.”

“Of course dearest,” Crowley’s angel responded with a smile.

The two of them sat like that for a few minutes. Both delighted to be spending time with the other.

Crowley looked at the clock. It read 9:00.

“Well angel, I’m afraid I must cut our time short. I have to leave for work now if I don’t want to be late. And I also have to go home to change my clothes.”

“Of course dearest. I’ll see you later?”

Crowley turned back to Aziraphale to see him flushed, looking a bit nervous.

“Of course angel. I’ll head to my flat after work to get a few changes of clothes and a toothbrush, but then I’ll head straight here. Yes?”

Aziraphale face cracked into a large, painfully genuine grin. “Yes darling, that sounds wonderful.”

“Alright, angel. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Crowley patted Aziraphale’s hand, and was out the door, eager for the day to go by as fast as possible.

-

  
  


That night Crowley drove to Aziraphale’s bookshop with a couple of changes of clothes and a toothbrush. Crowley slept on the sofa like he did the night before.

Eventually, that’s how every day after went. Get up on Aziraphale’s sofa, eat breakfast with Aziraphale, go to work, go to his flat to pick up a few things, and then head home, to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

Crowley slowly started moving in. He didn’t have many sentimental objects or nicknacks, so the only real thing he had to bring over were his clothes. And Aziraphale made sure to clean out a few drawers and part of his closet from Crowley to use.

They couldn’t pinpoint when was the first time they kissed, but it felt  _ right _ to the both of them. Soon after, Crowley started sleeping with Aziraphale, in Aziraphale’s bed. Crowley was the first to tell Aziraphale that he loved him, when he was drunk. Aziraphale wouldn’t have had it any other way. They spoke about their relationship the next day and agreed on calling themselves  _ husbands _ , even if they weren’t legally married. Yet.

They did have sex, occasionally. There wasn’t a driving need to  _ get their hands on each other _ similar to what Aziraphale has read in a few romance (erotica) novels. To both of them, sex was just a way of expressing their love for each other. Therefore, it wasn’t actually necessary to them. They could show love in other ways. Like buying a book for the other, or reading a poem that reminded one of the other.

Aziraphale came up with the idea of moving to a cottage somewhere far away from London. At this point, they had been together for nine years, approaching ten.

Crowley had enthusiastically agreed and begged Aziraphale to immediately start looking for houses. A few weeks later, Crowley had found their haven.

It was a picturesque sight, and once they saw it, they knew it was theirs.

A few months later they moved to the South Downs together. Crowley spent their days tending to the garden, yelling at the plants, and Aziraphale spent their days baking, reading, painting, and everything in between.

Spending so much time together was amazing. It was everything that they could’ve asked for. They also got married at some point.

“Thank you for being with me, my dearest.” Aziraphale had said when they were both old and grey.

“Of course, angel” Crowley replied. “You are my own, and I love you.”

Aziraphale had smiled at that “And I love you, my dearest. So much.”

“To us?”

“To us.”

  
  


**END**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! I know this was very short, but I thank you all for sticking with me this entire time. This wasn't meant to be a plot-driven story, just something to get me back into the habit of writing consistently again (of course, the fluff doesn't hurt). I have a few other Good Omens projects, besides Good Omens Bingo, in the works so be on the lookout for those! Thank you all so much for the very sweet comments and the kudos! They kept me going through this story! Muah!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so so much to [finn](https://twitter.com/finnngggg) for the beta read. ILY!!


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